Not just a nuisance
by Love is a Mayer
Summary: The pov of Watson during episode one when Sherlock was about to take the cabbies pill. "No, not now! Not when Sherlock finally needs me!"
1. Chapter 1

"Sherlock!"

_Oh, God! He didn't hear me, Sherlock didn't hear me!_

Watson stood trapped on the other side of the school feeling more helpless then he ever had in Afghanistan as he watched Sherlock being controlled by the murderer.

It was a horrible feeling knowing that a guy who usually solved cases in less than an hour, couldn't even save himself, and knowing that he couldn't help the fool was really doing wonders for his mind at the moment.

Time was ticking down as Watson contemplated his next move. The ever growing fear in the pit of his stomach seemed to sky rocket when Sherlock brought the pill closer to his mouth.

Watson stared at his friend; yes Sherlock was his friend even though they only met a day ago. And in that day, he had learned more about the man then he had in a lifetime with his sister. It was an odd kind of relationship, but he cherished it. Though, it was all going to fall apart if he couldn't figure out a way to save his flat mate from the psycho cabbie.

"If only I had your mind, Sherlock," Watson mumbled as he paced around. "I'd have a plan developed and would know what the guy fricking ate before he got here." Watson laughed at his joke, seeing as how it calmed him down for a moment.

During his pacing, Watson had flung his jacket aside, only now realizing the gun he had taken from his old flat.

"God, I am so stupid! It's a wonder he hadn't kicked me out after analyzing my life."

With new animation, he took the gun out of his pants waistband, and clicked the safety off. As he aimed the gun towards the cabbie's heart, Watson was instantly transported back to his time in the war. Every noise, every breath the two took, he caught it.

He had the gun cocked and loaded, but he couldn't shoot. His left hand began to tremor, and it hindered him from getting a clear shot.

"No, not now! Not when Sherlock finally needs me," Watson seethed, seeing the two in the other room becoming dangerously close to killing each other.

Watson gaped. "Why am I such a nuisance to everyone? The one person in my life that finally doesn't hate me is going to kill himself and I can't do anything about it!"

A silent tear ran down Watson's cheek as he commanded,even yelled at himself to stop shaking.

"Watson,stop it, please stop shaking,dammit!"

No one but him would know the terror that ran through his brain when Sherlock put the pill to his lips. And no one but him would know that he, at that moment, stopped shaking enough to make a warriors shot right into the chest of the cabbie.


	2. Chapter 2

"Why do they keep putting this blanket on me," Sherlock wondered aloud as Lestrade quickly appeared by his side.

"It's for shock," he commented absently, leaning against the ambulance.

Sherlock raised a brown eyebrow, clearly angered by the helpfulness of the cops. "I'm not in shock!"

"Yeah, but some of the guys want to take photographs. Cleared off before we got here. But a guy like that would have had enemies I suppose. One of them might have been following him, but we've got nothing to go on."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

"Ok, give me?

Sherlock closed his eyes and said, very patiently, "The bullet they just dug out of the wall is from a handgun. A kill shot like that over that distance from that sort of weapon, you're looking for a crack shot but not just a marksman, his hands mustn't have shaken at all so clearly he's acclimatized to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger so obviously has a strong moral principle. You're looking for someone probably with a history of military service and nerves of steel..."

He was in the zone, and it was easy to know who had shot the bullet, and somehow, subconsciously, his eyes traveled over to the shooter. Watson was standing behind the police tape, looking, for all the world, like a kid who had got caught stealing from the cookie jar.

And when he finally realized the fact that Watson was the one who saved him, Sherlock clammed up. If the police knew that his flat mate had been the one to shoot the cabbie to his death, Watson would be thrown in the slammer for a long time. And that was something even the hard headed, psychotic detective didn't want to fathom. He had grown accustomed to the man being his partner on crime investigations, and he didn't feel like losing Watson now because of his big mouth.

"Actually, you know what? Ignore me."

"Sorry?"

"Ignore all of that. It's just the, uh, shock talking." Sherlock picked himself off of the back of the ambulance. He had to, no _needed,_ to go see how Watson was after what had happened in the school.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I just need to, uh, talk about the rent —"

"But I still have questions for you," Lestrade pestered, knowing that Sherlock wasn't going to answer them in anyway.

"Oh, what now? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket."

"Sherlock!"

And with a quiet carefulness, Sherlock avoided answering the DI's questions by sideling up next to Watson, the man who had saved him.

Watson looked at the detective and then at the ground. With all that had happened, Sherlock had to give the guy some props. He wasn't in shock from killing a man, and if you got down to it, he looked like he had just woke up from a nice, peaceful sleep. "Sergeant Donovan was just explaining everything. Two pills, it's a dreadful business, isn't it? Just dreadful."

Sherlock smirked, looking at the ground. "Good shot," he murmured quietly.

"Yes, yes must've been from that window."

"You'd know. Need to get the powder burns out of your hands. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case. Are you alright?"

Watson stared incredulously at Sherlock. "Yes, of course I'm alright." Was the unfriendable guy actually opening up for someone? At the thought, something memorable fluttered in his chest, some sort of new feeling.

"Well you have just killed a man."

"Yes I know…"Watson paused a moment, finally looking at the detective. "Yes that's true isn't it? But he wasn't a very nice man."

They both began walking away from the crime scene to talk privately. Both needed something to do to get their minds off of the night.

"No. No, he wasn't, really, was he?"

"Frankly, a bloody awful cabbie."

"That's true, he was a bad cabbie. You should have seen the route he took us to get here."

"Stop it!" Watson said, pivoting on his heel. "We can't giggle, it's a crime scene. Stop it."

"Well, you're the one who shot him."

"Keep your voice down." Watson turned to some detectives that passed by them. Both looked at the pair like they were crazy. "Sorry, it's just erm…nerves, I think."

Watson began walking again, deep in thought. If he hadn't come up to save Sherlock, then what would have happened? Would he have figured out some amazing plan to trick the cabbie into thinking he had took the pill, without really taking it?

"You were going to take that damn pill, weren't you," Watson said into the night air. He didn't want to believe it, but what other choice did he have?

The look on Sherlock's face wasn't pretty as he answered. "Course I wasn't. Biding my time. Knew you'd turn up."

"No, you didn't. That's how you get your kicks, isn't it- you risk your life to prove you're clever?"

"Why would I do that?" Sherlock sound actually content as he moved closer to his partner in crime, knowing that the guy wasn't leaving him in the near future. "I've got you to keep me in check, so why in the world would I want to lose that?"

Watson was speechless. When he found his voice, he meant to shout, but he choked on the word as it came out. "Because," he managed. "You're an idiot."

A blush crept up Sherlock's neck at the comment. "Dinner?" he asked quickly to hide it.

"Starving."


End file.
